


Lil' Roma

by aricasuntoast



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Fluff, Humor, NOT spamano
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-01
Updated: 2017-03-01
Packaged: 2018-09-27 15:49:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10030088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aricasuntoast/pseuds/aricasuntoast
Summary: In attempt to revisit the past, a fed-up and nostalgic Spain plots to make Romano his little henchman again. Unfortunately, the Bad Touch Trio and England's magic is not a very good combination, and their underlings are forced to relive being small and young again.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, it is I...back after 2 years lmao. No, I did not forget my password, I just got somewhat busy last year (actually busier than ever now but I choose to do this). If you realize I am the author of Arthur vs. W Academy and are hoping for a new chapter, unfortunately I will no longer be updating it. It's a long story not meant for the author's notes, but I became very unhappy in the way I was writing it. So, instead, have this fic whose humor I am actually proud of. If needed, translations are at the end.

Spain was enjoying his perfect Sunday (sunny as always in his home) and relaxing after spending all of yesterday pulling weeds. He was enjoying himself while clutching a pillow on the sofa, watching his favorite telenovela and stuffing his face with Taco Bell. Mexico would have yelled at him for disgracing his culture, but he had to admit it - America had a talent for taking others' dishes and making it...American. American fast food was his guilty pleasure, wasn’t it the same for everyone else?

He paid no attention when he heard someone unlocking and opening his front door. Without even looking away from the screen, Spain said, "Hola, Romano." No response. "I know it's you, now stop pretending to be an intruder.

He smiled when he heard a scoff from said intruder. "One day, I could actually be an intruder and you'd look like an idiot thinking it was me."

Spain replied, "But it's always you! You know, you visit me the most often."

"Is that an insult or a compliment? I couldn't tell." Romano hopped over the couch and landed in the spot next to Spain. Romano put his legs up on Spain’s prized coffee table, which was strictly legs-off territory, but he ignored it. "What the hell are you watching?"

Spain grinned. "See, this is the soap I was telling you about. Look, look, that girl,  _ ay díos mío! _ She's about to find out who murdered her fiancé, I'll tell you later." He excitedly went to pick up the remote to turn up the volume, but Romano grabbed his wrist, earning a startled look from the Spaniard.

"No,” the Italian interjected, “the most important football match of the century is about to start."

"That's what you say every game." Spain jokingly said. He struggled to retrieve the remote, and in increasing annoyance, used his other hand to try to pry Romano off his own hand. "Romano, are you going to disrespect your boss?"

"You never were my boss, now let go!" He succeeded in throwing Spain's arms and changed the channel just as the woman on the screen said, "The killer of my fiancé is-?"

The screen now showed several men in colored shirts racing after a ball. Spain screeched in frustration, and stood up. "I cannot believe you! You were always a brat when you were younger but at least you were weak and easy to dominate!" He proceeded to storm off, and gave him one last angry look.

Romano turned to face Spain, and mustered up the sweetest face he could, reserved for tourists and pretty women in Italy. "You can watch next episode." He said with a smile.

It worked like a charm and Spain was totally hypnotized. "Okay!" Spain walked out of the room before realizing there wasn't going to be another episode - that was the series finale! He screamed again.

* * *

Spain spun on the bar stool he was sitting on in the room next to the kitchen. "He comes into  _ my _ house and he takes over  _ my _ TV and then he expects  _ me _ to clean up after him!" Spain slurred. He made the mistake of trying to lick the salt of the rim of his margarita glass. "Salty...just like Romano. Why do I even bother taking care of him? Refill."

Prussia shook the mixer and poured its contents into his glass. Instead of adding a lime slice, he stuck a slice of tomato onto Spain's glass. "We have some high tolerance when it comes to those who we love. Like West, he practically took over my house but we have no conflict."

"That's because you two are both neat freaks." France said. "And it's not just being clean either. Last month I was at your house, and I didn't use a coaster. And guess what he did? He kicked me out because of my ‘intolerable behavior!’"

"Okay, but in his defense, you  _ did _ not use a coaster." Prussia refilled France's drink, and slid a coaster under his glass without even thinking.

France's eyes flicked towards the contraption resting under his glass. " _ Mon dieu _ .” He said in horror. “He got OCD from you."

"Ja, he takes after me in every way." Prussia downed his drink in one gulp, despite it not being the type of alcoholic beverage one chugs. "But I miss when he was younger. I love him being macho, but I really do love when he was such an innocent little country and would hide behind me." He sighed sentimentally.

Spain reached behind the bar and brought out a full bottle of tequila and popped the top. Prussia and France watched as the liquid inside it disappeared. "Oh, my little Romanito, so small and precious...and actually helpful sometimes..." He rested his head on the bar. "Don't you just wish you could turn back time?"

France said, "Not really. Canada and Seychelles are just as polite and adorable as ever." Prussia flicked him in the head. Oblivious, France continued, "Viet never liked to talk but we would make banh mi together."

"Where did I go wrong?" Spain wailed.

"Alright, you're cut off." Prussia took the bottle from him. "We've gone through four of your five drunk stages: clumsy, hysterical, angry, and sad. You're done for the night."

"What's the fifth stage?" France asked.

"He reverts back to his pirate self and tries to fight England." Prussia replied. For England, that was his only drunk stage.

"And you're stopping him because...?" France said. "Ah! I just came up with a wonderful idea!"

Prussia shuddered. "Considering your last 'wonderful idea', I'm not so sure." He said.

"Non, this has nothing to do with the grapes.  _ Entendez-moi _ , tout le monde. That means you, too." France nudged Spain, who was quite literally about to drown in a puddle of his own tears.

"Remember that one April Fool's when England turned me small? Well, I was thinking we could have him do the same to Romano, Germany and...I suppose Canada. I gave that child too few piggy-back rides and he's much too big to carry now."

"You really think that will work?" Spain asked, suddenly filled with hope. Spain was so quick to become happy again it was frightening. "Aw, but even if he's small, he'll still be the same Romano that talks back and will climb a tree to avoid me."

"He did that even when he was young." Both Prussia and France said.

Spain grinned. "Then let's do it."

* * *

Fortunately there was a world meeting the day after the next day. (No country would ever think of attending a conference while hungover, especially given the arguments and Germany's lectures that comes with it.)

The three had come 15 minutes early and found England waiting for the meeting to start, as expected. England saw them approaching in the corner of his eye and muttered, "Oh, God."

"And bonjour to you, too." France greeted. "I have a proposal."

England's eyes widened in fear. "Your boss didn't tell you to marry me again, did he?"

France laughed. "Non, Angleterre, what I mean is that we need your magic. We want you to turn Romano, Germany, and Canada small again."

"There is absolutely no way-"

"You can do it to America, too, or another of the God-knows-how-many colonies that broke away from you."

England was too distracted to notice the subtle insult. "Dammit, fine. It'll be temporary, though."

"That's good enough," Spain said, "as long as I get to see my little Romano...little again."

"When do you plan on doing it?" Prussia asked anxiously.

"I'm not going to tell you lot!" England growled. "You'd only give it away. Now shoo, Germany's arrived and you gits are suspicious as it is."

* * *

The meeting was more than halfway over and Spain and France nervously glanced at England every few minutes. Prussia, however, was completely absorbed in politics, despite not really being a country, and offered his unbiased opinion, because of such circumstances.

"Any century now." France hissed at England, who had been sitting next to him but had turned his body in the opposite direction to avoid France's staring.

England faced France. "Shut up! I'm waiting for the right moment! If you'd like, you can do this yourself."

"France, England, it has been repeatedly established that there are to be no side conversations." Germany bellowed. "Is it that you consider your private comments to be so important that you feel the need to-"

A cloud of smoke erupted, covering the whole room. It took a few seconds for it to clear, but one could hear Denmark say, "Iceland, I know I ruined your favorite sweater but you don't have to go throwing volcano tantrums."

Everyone was confused but Germany resumed his scolding. "As I was saying, do you feel the need to undermine my authority?" He yelled in a shrill voice that cracked on the last word. All heads turned towards Germany, who had no idea what happened. Germany immediately knew something was wrong, for  _ everyone _ was paying attention. He looked down at gasped. The very small German was barely visible, standing behind the tall podium, and he was cloaked in the clothes that he had been wearing, which was much too big now.

Silence filled the room and everyone gaped at Germany in shock. No one said a word, until suddenly, someone broke out in laughter.

"Hah! What authority do you have now, you bastard?" Romano howled. "You look like an uncooked fusilli!"

"Romano, you're small too! Che carino!" His younger brother remarked.

"Che cosa?" Romano screamed in horror. "What the fuck? Don't look at me! Look, that burger bastard and his maple bastard brother are the same!"

The meeting turned into chaos, but it was a different type of discord than usual. America and Canada were somewhat thrilled to be small again, Prussia went to pick up a very embarrassed Germany, and Romano angrily climbed on top of the table and rammed headfirst into Spain's stomach.

Spain had never been so happy to cough up blood.

* * *

Spain indulged in the days he was once again significantly physically stronger than Romano, meaning he could do anything and Romano’s tiny punches only hurt just a little. Plus, because Romano was so small and weak, he often relied on Spain, and Spain happily obliged to be at his service. That is, until Romano found a way to turn this into torture, and purposely used this dependence against Spain.

"I can't see." He would say, and when Spain lifted Romano onto his shoulders, the little country would choke him with his legs and pull at Spain’s hair.

"Get that for me. You're taller." Spain knew for a fact Romano could access anything even if it looked too high up; he had a natural ability to climb things (when running away).

"You think my weak arms can handle that?" It didn’t matter what he was handing him. Spain could ask him to hold a bowl and Romano claimed he was physically unable to.

Spain picked up on this, saying, “Romano, if you’re trying to get me to regret having you be a niñito again, it’s not going to work.”

"Remind me why you had that tasteless idiot turn me back into a kid."

"Well, you know, I miss the days when you were small and weren't so bossy.”

"No, you don't.” Romano suddenly took a serious yet comforting tone, which Spain had only heard once or twice before in the hundreds of years he had known him. “You miss my childhood days because you feel like you failed as a parent figure, and you blame yourself for the way I turned out." Spain was speechless. "Well, Spain, it wasn't you, it...it was..." Romano gritted his teeth. He never was good at admitting his fault.

Spain came out of his initial shock and grinned. "What was that? I couldn't hear you!" He continued to tease Romano, and watched in awe as his hair curl reacted to his mood. His hair curl suddenly shriveled in annoyance.

Romano grabbed Spain's nipples through his shirt and twisted, bringing tears to his eyes. "Don't test me! It was me, okay? I'm like this. So don't feel like you messed up. You took good care of me, saved me from getting conquered by other creepy old men, and your food wasn't half bad. T-Thank you for everything, I guess. And don't you ever try to pull this shit again!"

Spain burst into tears, and wrapped his arms around Romano. "Romano! Díos mío, I thought I'd never hear those words from you!"

Romano struggled to get out of the death grip he was in. "Spain! Stop! You're ruining my shirt, you sappy shitwagon!" He gave up and merely hung from Spain's suffocating hug, and patted him on the back half-heartedly.

"I'm sorry, Romano. I shouldn't have done this to you. I'll call England right away." Spain said. Romano could barely react because he was so repulsed by Spain's puffy, red eyes and face covered in tears and what he hoped wasn't snot.

Spain reached for his phone when his front door slammed open. "Spain! We need to get this fixed!" Prussia yelled, and he ran to where Spain and Romano was, dragging a tiny German behind him. "No one takes him seriously anymore. His boss can't handle how cute he is - okay, seriously, look how squishy his cheeks are. Do you know how cute you are, West?"

"Ja, Brüder, you have told me 279 times." Germany said quietly.

Prussia squealed, and took a deep breath. "The macho look suits him. We'll never get anything done with him looking like  _ this _ ." He ruffled Germany's hair.

"Spain!" France's voice echoed throughout the entire house. "Call Prussia and tell him to get here as soon as - oh, bonjour, Prussia."

"-manage to get banned from  _ all  _ seven Disneyland parks?! You two are demon children!" England walked into the room, holding up America and Canada by their shirt collars, who were grinning deviously. "They were cute back then. But now, it's different. They're too smart and powerful now. Combine that with the 'innocent child' act and you have these monsters." He expected America and Canada to at least  _ look _ scolded, but they had found it was extremely entertaining to try and fight each other in the air while in the grip of the Englishman. "Hey! Do you mind acting your age?"

"This is our age." America cheekily replied.

"That's it!" England screamed. "I wasn't going to tell you, but you boys have not once looked in the least bit regretful in your actions! I'm changing you back!" England relished in the one second where they looked worried.

"That's it, bro," America said. "Seems this is the end of our rampage."

"It was fun trying to dominate the world with you." Canada replied.

"Oh, please," England cut in, dropping the both of them on the floor. "You call that dominating? All you did was trash some amusement parks."

"We started a fight with China."

"Everyone does that at some point. Back when I was your age, I-"

“Don’t waste your breath, Mr. England.” Canada mockingly said.

"What Canada means is, spare us the pain of your awful stories and change us back already," America said.

“Wha-” England went to grab at the boys but the two ran away giggling. “I never want to babysit you two nitwits again!” And with a puff of smoke, the four affected countries were back to their normal sizes again.

Unfortunately, returning to adult proportions ruined their clothing and their shirts were torn. France, England, America, and Canada chaotically left the house, making fun of how America’s gut stuck out, especially because his child-sized shirt was now a crop top on him. Germany, looking incredibly embarrassed, apologized and went immediately home - with his older brother trailing behind - to change and arrange second meetings with his bosses that couldn’t take him seriously the first time.

Upon seeing the other countries with their ripped clothes, who were all of larger, muscular build except for Romano, Romano frowned and looked at the ground as the others left until it was just him and Spain in the house. Spain instantly recognized the look of insecurity plastered on Romano’s face.

“I don’t care if you’re made of steel or pasta,” Spain sweetly said, “as long as you’re Romano.”

“Tch,” Romano replied, “I don’t want to look all macho like the rest of them.” He began to go upstairs to Spain’s bedroom, to borrow his clothes (as if he hadn’t “borrowed” enough of his wardrobe), but this time, Spain didn’t mind sharing his everything with Romano even if he didn’t get much of it back.

“It’s a beautiful day, today, as always,” Spain said. “Do you want to help water the crops?”

“Sure, I’ve got nothing to do.” Romano said, but it was everything Spain wanted to hear.

**Author's Note:**

> Translations:  
> * not sure how many foreign expressions you know so I will translate literally everything *  
> -Ay díos mío! = Oh my god! (Spanish)  
> -Mon dieu = My god (French)  
> -Entendez-moi = Listen to me (French)  
> -Che carino = How cute (Italian)  
> -Che cosa? = What? (Italian)  
> -Niñito = Little boy (Spanish)
> 
> OK now that you've read it it is time for me to ramble in the end notes. Good god, I started this fic in July '16...oops. Hopefully you can't tell there I added parts in February '17 because my writing has decreased in quality hehahha. I don't know if I will post any more fics. I have many drafts, some with excellent plots but horrible executions, saved on my phone, an ancient iPod touch, God knows where... Hopefully I can bring myself to completing them, and actually posting them. I even had a fic where Spain got dementia, but I mostly wanted an emotional scene where Romano gets heartbroken when Spain forgets who he is and fails to recognize the subtle good qualities of his. Most of my fic ideas comes from a daydream of an emotional scene,, Anyway, I ramble too much. I need more friends. Please leave a comment. I need feedback.


End file.
